


Incomplete

by Haruhiryu



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, One-Shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haruhiryu/pseuds/Haruhiryu
Summary: LITERALLY incomplete stories that will probably not be expanded further, but seem good enough to post. Enjoy!





	1. Premonitions

**Author's Note:**

> Premonitions
> 
> Started in 2015, I honestly have no idea where this was going, but I do feel there was supposed to be a bit more to this story.
> 
> Moderate Fred/FeMU
> 
> I have about 3-5 more stories I plan to post. Hopefully editing will get me in the mood to ACTUALLY writing again...
> 
> I do not own Fire Emblem or any of it's characters.

She is seated in a chair, while he is kneeling at her side. Her platinum white hair has grown out a bit, and instead of her usual fatigues, she wears a simple lavender gown. His hands are softly caressing her swollen stomach, which holds their unborn child, while one of her hands, the one wearing the ring, which conveys their vows of being together forever, gently overlays his own hand. The ring is an intricate silver band, as if three vines were braided together, and holding it together is a five-petal flower with a diamond as its center. Looking up at her angelic face, he is lost momentarily in those dark chocolaty eyes.

“I love you…”

xxx

…Waking up, without even looking in a mirror, Frederick knew he had a disgusted expression on his face. This was not how he wished to be awoken in the morning, by having, not a nightmare, but a disgustingly fluffy dream with the Shepherd’s new…“tactician.” He could not say he hated the woman, for she had saved his, Chrom’s and Lissa’s lives countless times in the first few days of knowing her, but he had absolutely no trust for the platinum. And here he was, having a premonition of her, no, their, possible future.

A grumble escapes his lips as he leaves the comfort of his bed. It was not the matter of it being dark, for he had long gotten used to waking at four in the morning, but even though mid-spring, there was still an unfriendly chill that even he detested. Of course, they, the Shepherds, were leaving later in the morning for Regna Ferox, so one could not laze around in bed. Reaching his dresser, he quickly lit a candle, filling his wash basin with freezing water and he starts his daily rituals.

It was not common knowledge…no, in reality, only his deceased grandmother had known…but Frederick could see into the future. Well, the power really couldn’t be called “seeing,” it was more catching glimpses of possible futures via his dreams. He had no control in what he would see, and usually, it was only frivolous things, like seeing himself playing with a dog (he received a puppy for his birthday that year), donning the armor of a Great Knight (a year after that premonition, he was promoted from a Cavalier to a Great Knight), and other daily things. Only once did a dream ever serve him, and that was through a horrible scene of seeing his lord, a young twelve to thirteen year old Prince Chrom, dead and bloodied at his feet in an unknown Ylissean alley. Two weeks after that premonition, the Prince had decided to go on an outing through the streets of the capital, and only through forceful persuasion did he steer his lord clear from any trouble. The next day, news was brought from patrol that another young man, a youth in his early teens, was killed in a gruesome manner, thus leading the castle, and capital, to be on high alert. Weeks later, following five more killings, the perpetrator was caught and punished. Frederick felt sorry for the souls who lost their lives, but thanks to his premonition it saved his lord. Due to that one horrible glimpse, he realized that what he saw was not the future, but a possible future, and certain actions could avoid what he did not want to occur; and he most definitely did not want to be romantically involved with any unknown, shady characters.

Furthermore, with his dreams, they never came at his command, they happened at random. Some nights, it would be premonition after premonition, and sometimes, in that cycle, there would even be two or three in one night. Usually though, they occurred once a month or less.

Still, besides that one incident with Chrom, he never considered any of his visions “important.” They never showed how a battle would end, what problems might occur during the fight, when a bandit group would attack a village, or anything of such import. Always, they were always of something that could, or would, matter to him, and rarely (besides the Chrom incident) would it affect anyone else. Being that was fact, based on all previous visions, he never thought of telling anyone of these useless tidbits; sans his grandmother, being he was a confused child, and his parents told him to ignore the dreams. His grandmother, however, told him it may one day be a useful power, and that it was an ability passed through his bloodline, although it usually jumped generations.

Overall, Frederick couldn’t call his problem a plague, for it never affected his habits nor his sleep, but they could be terribly bothersome. Some were exceptionally tantalizing ventures (such as his first kiss and promotion from page to Cavalier), while others were things he wanted to avoid with a passion (such as a particular rowdy night with his superiors and equals, but he was certain that it became that boisterous because he was avoiding every social prior, thus leading the culprits to force him into that sinful night). However, knowing that something was coming, that brought along its own stress, and as Chrom and Lissa’s knight, he had more than enough of that.

Putting on his armor, the knight looked in the mirror, revealing a well-groomed, prepared man. His mirror doppelganger mimicked his nod of approval, and with barely a wasted movement, he blew out the candle, leaving his room, thus starting his hectic day of work.

~~~

“Umm…Chrom?” The cobalt turned his head, smiling at the speaker, being his prior conversation partner left the table for thirds.

“Something wrong, Robin?”

“No, no. I was only hoping that we can push our meeting back tonight, maybe to eight. I wanted to go into town for a bit.” Frederick’s attention momentarily shifted to the tactician’s conversation, before quickly returning to Virion’s “enthralling” story of how he once shot a wyvern down with a pebble, or was it a squirrel? The knight had stopped paying attention when the Archer started to explain every detail down to the minutest blade of grass.

“Besides sending out a patrol and training sessions,” The cobalt took a bite out of his roasted venison, “We have nothing planned for tomorrow. We can have the meeting sometime in the morning instead.”

“Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t, Robin.” A smile made its way across the man’s face. “Anyway, it gives me some time to have a pint or two with Sully, Vaike, and Stahl. Alcohol and strategy meetings don’t really go hand-in-hand.”

The girl laughed melodically. “Be careful now, don’t drink too much, otherwise you’ll have a nasty headache tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, Robin. I don’t need another lady nagging me.” By now the Lord was laughing. “Lissa is enough.”

“I don’t nag!” A dinner roll came flying across the hall, hitting Chrom in the head. Even with the slight damage, the man laughed harder, thus, in turn, leading Lissa to start. The others not in the know, especially Stahl who just arrived with another pile of food, looked at the scene in confusion.

“Now, now, you two. Stop wasting food.” A few giggles escaped the Tactician, before she could talk with a straight face. “If we were in camp, Lissa, I would be making you eat that roll.”

The blonde cringed, mumbling, “Sorry,” to Robin. Of course, once the Tactician turned away, the girl stuck her tongue out at Chrom before returning to her chat with Maribelle.

“I’ll be heading out, then. I don’t want to be returning too late tonight.”

“Pleasant evening, Robin.” With that, the platinum stood, placing her empty dishes on the cleaning rack, leaving the mess hall.

Frederick nodded again, as he continued to feign interest in Virion’s conversation, which somehow moved into how delicious home grown beets were. Was Robin finally making her move? Turning traitor on Chrom and Ylisse? Yes, through her strategies in Regna Ferox they were able to gain the East Khan’s help, and she did save Lady Maribelle, but who really knew what was going on in that little head of hers? What did that roster say, “She was the biggest mystery of the group.” That was no confidence booster. What to do, what t-?

“Virion? Frederick?” The knight turned, hearing his lord’s voice. Even the talkative Virion stopped his ramblings to look at the cobalt. “Me and some of the others are planning to head into town for some drink. Do either of you wish to join us?”

“Oh no, Chrom! I don’t mind Frederick, but not Ruffles!” The fiery Cavalier leaned over Chrom, glaring at the Archer.

“Why, my sweet bird, how harsh your peck is!”

“Can it for someone who cares!”

“Now, now, Sully.” Chrom smiled, stepping in between the two Shepherds, making sure that a brawl didn’t start. Last time, Virion was found hiding behind some barrels. Of course, it didn’t make sense to Robin and Chrom, being Robin, at least, was certain that the man knew how to fight, he just avoided them as much as possible. “Making new friends never hurts.” Although glaring at Ruffles, she finally mumbles consent, leading Virion to smile and accept their offer. “And you, Frederick?”

Usually the knight would go. Not to drink of course, but to watch over the group, but with Robin doing who knows what… “My apologies, milord, I have some other obligations I need to take care of.”

“Not more chores, Sir Frederick!” Stahl looked at him, still in the middle of eating a piece of pie; some crumbs sticking to the olive’s face. “You’ve done more than enough of that today!”

“I agree with Stahl, Frederick. You need to relax sometimes. Both you and Robin are overworking yourselves.”

Although Frederick cringed inwardly, there was no showing of such on the knight’s face. Why would Chrom use their names in the same sentence? “Again, my apologies, milord, but, the matter is urgent.” The brunet stood, bowed, and exited after placing the dishes on the cleaning rack. He knew the others were mumbling about him, but every minute used debating was one less of following Robin, and by now she was probably at the palace gates.

Returning to his room, he removed his armor and stored his Silver Lance. Even though he could move quietly enough with the plates on, learned through much practice, he still needed better mobility. He knew how fast she could be, as seen through many a battle, and he did not need the clanking of his armor to inform her of his presence. Putting on a Steel Sword, for he wasn’t daft enough to leave the palace without protection, he looked in the mirror briefly. He was a man. Yes, he was a knight at heart, that was what he was, to his core, but at the moment, he could probably pass as a regular citizen. Well, maybe not. To Frederick, he looked only as a knight without his armor, and maybe he could pass as a lower noble’s son or a merchant’s apprentice, but not a commoner. Well, it didn’t matter, as long as he wasn’t seen by Robin.

With that, the knight left without a coat, being it was early summer and too warm. Even he, as a knight who knew the etiquettes of his class, did not like to suffer when there was no need. Anyway, it would just be one more nuisance to carry about.

He passed barely a handful of servants when leaving the castle, and although he did not notice, they all did a double-take, seeing Chrom’s knight without his usual garb. Even the palace guard had to catch himself, coming close to misspeaking with the lieutenant of the Shepherds, when asked where the Shepherd’s tactician disappeared to. However, the man in question paid no notice; his full concentration on the matter at hand.

To his surprise, Frederick easily caught up with the woman, being she was meandering through the night market, looking at one oddity here, a trinket there, and when she finally did stop, it was to buy a pastry. The platinum continued in this way, wandering from shop to shop, staring at all the goods for sale. Besides her first purchase, she bought a few tactical tomes at a used book tent and some honey-lemon bath goods. She also stared longingly at an accessory, a purple rose, but walked away after a bit.

This continued for over two hours, making even the stalwart knight think he had erred, following the tactician who really only planned on shopping. However, just as he was about to return to the castle, the platinum started heading towards an unsavory part of Ylisstol. She seemed a bit uncertain, which could be seen through her slight hand clenches, but to the normal, oblivious, passerby, she walked into the alleyway with confidence. This was what he was waiting for! He followed her through the mazing back alleys, almost losing her, if not for the flap of her recognizable coat. When she reached a certain shop, she entered hesitantly; the door automatically closing behind her.

The outer front of the shop was dreary, as if an average passerby could easily walk right pass the place, blending into the rest of the scenery. As with the other buildings, the only lights came from the candles within the store, and unlike the boutiques and stores on the main streets, this area wasn’t beckoning or pleasant.

Peeking into the window of the store, the space inside showed a small, dank hole-in-the-wall, with barely enough room to move in. If he went in, Robin would obviously notice, so he remained where he was. The room that the platinum stood in was crammed full of goods. Bookshelves stuffed to the brim, stacks of books piled on the ground, assorted weapons in barrels, knives and daggers, and much besides was stuffed into the little store.

Near the bookshelf, Robin already had a couple of tomes, flicking through the volumes with ease. The owner, or who he assumed was the owner, was a wiry, older fellow who matched the store perfectly, but would never be passable as a presentable shopkeeper in most of Ylisse, watched her with baited breath, until she finally walked over to the register with two tomes. When it came to magic, Frederick had no clue about the different glyphs and powers, and even if he knew something, he was so far away, he could only see that they were red and purple.

Minutes passed as the two stood talking to each other. Well, talking might not have been the right term; Frederick could tell that things were getting tense between the two. The man’s face was getting red. There was no yelling or shouts, but the shopkeeper was obviously irritated. He couldn’t see Robin’s face, but the knight was certain that it was straight, and the only emotions came through her clenching her right fist, which was held under the table, not seeable to the seller. In the end, Robin seemed to come out on top, slamming the purple book away, and slapping the red tome on the table with the merchant nodding grimly in agreement. Taking out money she either received from Chrom, or somehow earned in the past two months, she paid the shopkeeper and left. The thought of following her came to mind, but something stopped him, causing the knight to turn the corner and let the tactician pass without catching a glimpse of him. Instead, as he came out of hiding, he looked through the window again, and as he thought, the shop owner had called out two lackeys from behind the shop front. The two left within seconds of Robin’s departure, and the knight followed behind. The two followed the exact route Robin took, of course, maybe, this was the only route out to the main road. Frederick hadn’t heard a thing that the three said, but he was certain it wasn’t anything friendly about Robin. As well, the girl erred in showing her fairly weighted purse to a questionable fellow. No doubt this would turn into a mugging.

Turning a corner, but a few streets away from Ylisstol’s main lane, the two waylaid the tactician. Being only a few seconds behind, he could already hear most of the conversation, even though he probably missed the first bits.

“Come now, Doll, hand us your coin and no one gets ’urt.”

The knight couldn’t see it, but he was certain that she either shook her head or ignored them completely, as was per usual. The platinum was eloquent, liked discussions and chatting, but in general, she actually preferred listening over talking, only becoming riled if it was tactical or educational.

“’Ur mighty cute, when ya actually look at ya.”

“Please stop it.”

Frederick turned the corner, seeing that Robin was actually cornered; a wall behind her and the two men blocking her in.

“Now, now, Doll. We’ll treat ya real kindly.” One man had his hand on her cheek, making her turn away in disgust. …And for some reason, not only did it disturb him, the act made him boil.

“Gentlemen,” Frederick turned the corner, deciding it was best to intervene now rather than later; his cool, deadly smile playing across his face. “I think the lady is not in the mood for your particular games. …And neither am I.”

“Actin’ like a hero, aren’t ya, tall, dark, and brooding? We own this turf, and if ya ain’t want ta get hurt, you’d best leave.”

The knight scoffed, “I think not.” Before either understood the situation, Frederick was between them, easily knocking both to the side, being they were of the lankier build. He took Robin’s shoulder, pulling her close, walking her back through the alley.

“Fre-” He stopped her midway with a finger to her lips, shaking his head. Looking at her, she was obviously scared, but that wasn’t all that bothered him. …Was she always so frail? True, he never touched her before, but with her so close, he could tell how feminine, how fragile she was. Yet, she never seemed that way in battle. With Chrom, Sully, actually, with anyone at her side, she stood strong and confident. Was the coat of hers giving extra muscle and authority, or maybe he had just never noticed…

“Why you-!” Obviously one of the assailants was enraged, charging the two, but Frederick easily side-stepped him, smacking his stomach with the butt of his sword, making the man grunt, while falling to the ground.

Well, actually, that was incorrect, both were livid, but the smarter of the two didn’t announce his presence with a shout. Instead he charged where Frederick would be, following his partner’s attack. Sadly for the man, even without verbally revealing himself, just by moving, charging at Frederick and Robin, causing pebbles to clatter on the partially dirt, partially cobbled ground, that was enough of a warning for the knight who easily swung his still sheathed sword, hitting the attacker straight in the jaw, causing him to fall in agony as well.

“Like I said, gentlemen, I am not in the mood to play. Good evening.” With a slight bow and swift turn, he escorted Robin through the last bits of alley way, into the main street of the already dimming lights of the night market, keeping the platinum close and only stopping when they were in a secluded, yet safe area of the city square.

When he finally released her, she stood there stunned, before turning to him. “What were you doing there?” There was still a little fear in her eyes, but her tone was obviously irritated.

“That’s the thanks I get for saving you?” He cocked an eyebrow looking at her.

“Thanks. Now, what were you doing there?”

“Does it really matter?”

“…You were following me, weren’t you?” He shrugged, but kept his eyes on her. Having noticed how delicate she was, he couldn’t help but agree with the slimy vagrants; she was quite fetching, even with the grime of one still on her face. Did the man not even wash his hands? “For how long? The whole night?” He gave no reply. “I-I know you still don’t trust me, but really? You had nothing better to do than to follow me around?” Her voice was still irate, but there was almost a sadness to it as well.

“I do what I must to protect Ylisse and the Halidom.”

“…Whatever. I’m going back.”

“Wait!” Before she could even walk a step, he caught her, leading her to return a glaring gaze back at him.

“What?”

“What did you buy back there? And don’t tell me you didn’t buy anything; I saw you with my own two eyes.”

She bit her cheek still glaring. “What does it matter to you with what I buy with my money?”

“If it can harm the Exalt, Chrom, Lissa, or any in Ylisse, I believe it’s my business.”

“It’s not.” He tightened his grip on her shoulder, making her flinch. He decreased his strength, realizing it was hurting her, but still kept a firm grip. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“No, I am not.”

Glaring at him for a few more seconds, she finally sighed, pulling out the tome. “It’s an Arcfire.”

“If you had this, why didn’t you use it?” He paused, looking at the tactician, realizing an even bigger problem. “No, a better question, why didn’t you even have a weapon in the back alley way? Your sword skills are much to be desired, but you could have easily blasted them away with your Thunder tome.” A tome could be tucked away, but she didn’t even have a sword at her side.

“…I didn’t think I would need it.”

“Are you daft?” She flinched. “Why didn’t you even use the Arcfire if you had it?”

“…I didn’t think I would need weapons. Everyone says Ylisstol’s safe, so I thought I would be fine without it for the night. Anyway, I lent Ricken my Thunder tome for practice, and as you clearly stated earlier, my sword skills are wanting. And with the Arcfire, I can’t even use it properly.”

“Why buy it then?”

“When I become more skilled with magic, I’ll be able to use it, but currently I can only handle up to El- tomes… And the weapons there, although slightly used, they’re cheap…”

Finally dropping his arm, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m guessing you were bartering down the price earlier.” The platinum nodded solemnly. “Who even told you of this place?”

“Miriel, who heard about it from Vaike. They went together a couple of times to buy weapons.” That made sense. If Miriel went by herself, she would probably be heckled like Robin, but with Vaike there, a fairly well known man in the slums of Ylisstol, nothing would happen. “Why didn’t you go with someone, then? Like with Vaike?”

“…I don’t like him.” The tactician paused, biting her lip. “…No, let me rephrase that. It’s not that I don’t like him, but I would rather spend my time in other people’s company.”

“…Was it really worth the effort? After everything that happened tonight?”

Her lip trembled slightly, remembering what happened, but she responded confidently enough. “Even though it’s slightly used, it’s still 50% cheaper than what you could get elsewhere.”

He sighed, but soon straightened himself, looking back at her with his lieutenant visage. “No matter, you are not to return there again. Do you understand?” She nodded, holding the tome close. “Fine,” Another sigh escaped the knight’s lips. He took out his kerchief, absentmindedly wiping at her cheek, but a sudden slap of his hand took him by surprise.

“Wh-what are you doing?” The platinum stepped away, a blush on her cheeks.

He looked at her blankly before realizing what he had done. “You had something on your face. I only meant to get rid of it.”

“I-I can take care of that myself. I’m not Lissa…” She started patting her pockets, trying to find her own kerchief, but when she couldn’t, she accepted the knight’s proffered one, mumbling a thanks.

“My apologies, I just reacted on instinct.”

“It’s fine…” She mumbled under her breath. Wiping the area for a minute or two, she finally looked up, getting Frederick’s appraisal that her face was clean. Making a comment that she would return the kerchief once it was laundered, she pocketed the hand towel.

“Now, I assume you’re finished for the time. Let’s return to the castle.”

Starting forward, the brunet only stopped when he heard Robin speak. “A-aren’t you going to punish me?”

Returning attention to her he replied, “Do you want me to?”

“N-no… But, usually you would… I presume.”

“I think you had enough punishment, or enough of a scare, for the night. Let us return.” With that, he started forward again, only looking back to make sure Robin was following, which she was. Hoping she couldn’t see, he shook his head. Yes, he would usually punish a person for such stupid behavior, and he knew that Miriel and Vaike would be for unknowingly putting their tactician in danger, but at the moment, he felt protective of her. As well, he knew, just by looking at her, that having the experience that she did, she would never wander into those parts of Ylisse again.

Really, how could the girl be so naïve? Did she even know where that tome, those weapons, came from? They were probably all scavenged, no doubt, from dead or dying bodies. How else could you make sales, marking your slightly used items by so much? Still, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that. She seemed troubled enough.


	2. Father Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone could tell that Morgan was her son; his sociability, his intelligence, his ability to do anything he set his mind to, his interest in tactics, the way he followed his mother around like a duckling, and that was only scratching the surface. Yet, he was his son as well. Besides his hair, height, and fighting class, which were all physical traits, in what way was Morgan like him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, also incomplete, and it will probably never to be continued.
> 
> I know that I wanted to continue this, but I can't remember how. I think Lucina would have appeared, and Freddy realizes the truth in the end, but how I get to that point from where I ended is a mystery.
> 
> Once again, please enjoy.
> 
> I do not own Fire Emblem or any of it's characters.

A sigh; an uncharacteristic noise for the man made the two look up.

“Frederick?” The knight turned blankly, blinking at his wife. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not, Robin. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Well, it might have to do with the look on your face, or maybe the fact that the tea you brought back is cold. Very un-Frederick.”

“What?” The knight went over to touch the kettle, pouring some in a cup; as Chrom said, it was not hot, warm, or even tepid, it was cold. “…How?”

“Father!” The three turn to look at the tent flap, seeing Morgan standing in the entry way. “You forgot this.” The brunet walks in, placing down a kettle. “…Is something wrong, Father? Your face seems a little unsettled.”

“Everything is fine, Morgan.”

“Yah? O-okay.” The Cavalier started walking out, but turned. “Y-you’re still helping me with tonight’s dinner, right, Father?”

“Of course. We’re meeting at three, yes?”

“Yes. And maybe you’d be free for an evening spar?”

“If that is what you wish, although, being my son doesn’t mean I’ll take it easy on you.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t expect any less! I’ll see you later, Mother, Father, Lord Chrom.” With a wave, the boy left the tent; and with the child gone, another sigh left the knight.

“Well, that makes sense, I suppose. It seems you left the new kettle in the mess tent, and brought the old one back.” The tactician finished the cold tea given to her, pouring the steaming brew into her cup. “Now really, Frederick, what has gotten into you?”

“It is nothing, Robin.”

“Nothing doesn’t explain you being forgetful, Frederick.”

“It is…It is…” The knight, the eloquent, yet sarcastic speaker, was having trouble stringing words together.

“Is Morgan bothering you somehow?” The platinum put down the Pegasus pawn she had been playing with in her hand, instead grabbing a biscuit, nibbling on the treat.

“What! Of course not! Morgan has been completely cooperative and helpful!”

“But, it deals with Morgan, doesn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

“Do I have to pull it out of you, Frederick?”

“N-no, I…I am only disheartened by something inconsequential, Robin. It is nothing.”

“You’re my husband, though, and my friend. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“Even just saying your problems out loud can help sometimes, Frederick.” Chrom gave a smile.

With a sigh, the man nodded, sitting as his wife gestured him to do. “…Morgan is so much like you.”

“Isn’t that normal, for a child to be like their parent? I mean, there are cases where children are complete opposites, due to a complex or something, but that has nothing to do with this.”

“I suppose, yes, but he is very much like you.”

“Umm…well…” Chrom put his hand out stopping the tactician from continuing.

“I think I understand your problem, Frederick. Morgan is very much like you, Robin; Frederick is struggling to see himself in your son.”

“He has your hair color and height. He’s also a Cavalier, like you were once.”

“Those are all physical traits, Robin! How is Morgan like me?” He had no idea when, but he was standing, staring straight at his wife. She could see his pain; he knew he couldn’t deal with the problem right now. With a few breaths, the knight composed himself. “I’m sorry, Robin, milord. I need a few moments.” With that, the knight left the tent.

“Fred-!”

Chrom stopped the platinum. “Robin, he needs sometime to himself.”

“B-but…”

“I think a lot of men are having trouble with that in the army. Many of the kids are more like their mothers than their fathers. I know Sumia had this worry with Lucina, as I’m having the same problem with Cynthia. I know Vaike’s been having a hard time with Laurent, and Gaius with Gerome. It’s a problem quite a few Shepherds are dealing with; I just never realized it was a problem for Frederick.”

“…But Morgan is very much like his Father.”

xxx

He couldn’t believe he yelled at his wife. Yes, he felt a little better, finally getting the problem off his chest, but now he felt horrible in how he treated Robin.

“Gerome!”

The man let out a sigh, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn’t go back into the tent, but it was still too early to meet Morgan for dinner preparation.

“Gerome, I know you’re silent, but why don’t you answer? I brought the sweets you asked for.”

Frederick turned around, seeing Laurent talking to a…bucket and black drape? “Laurent?”

“…Apologies, who’s there?” The Mage turned around, obviously without his trademark glasses. “Fred…erick?”

“Yes. Do you need help with something?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for the thought though.”

“Then you were purposefully talking to a bucket?”

“A bucket?” The blond touches “Gerome.” “…That would explain why he didn’t respond. …I suppose if you have time, some assistance would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

“Would you perchance know where Gerome is?”

“Gerome? No, I haven’t seen him.”

“…I see. Thank you.” With that, the Mage started off. However, the few seconds after meandering off, he came close to confronting a pyramid of crates. Before crashing, Frederick pulled him back.

“Perhaps it would be best if I helped you, yes?”

Laurent put his hand out, touching the boxes in front of him. “Y-yes, that might be for the best.”

Frederick grabbed the boy’s elbow, pulling him along. “Where might Gerome be?”

The blond hummed. “At this time of day, either the training ground, with Minerva, or possibly in his tent. I would say the training ground is our best bet.”

The brunet nodded, although he was fairly certain Laurent couldn’t see it. “May I ask what happened to your glasses?”

“Hmm… Well, it was merely an untimely tumble.” The blond pulled out a sack, opening it to reveal the glasses. Broken in half at the nose, the right side’s lens was shattered, the other was missing. “Severa and I were out shopping for supplies and I became distracted by a smudge on my spectacles, so I stopped in the middle of the road, oblivious to the comings-and-goings of oncoming traffic. Before I knew it, I’m yanked to the side by Severa due to some poor soul losing control of his rampaging horse. Sadly, due to the sudden jerk, I dropped my glasses thus, leading them to be crushed by the said horse. Gladly we had already finished out shopping, but I received quite an earful on our return trip.”

“I see. I’m surprised you don’t have a spare glasses.”

“…That is even more embarrassing.” The youth sighed, a slight blush on his face. “I do, I just can’t remember where I placed them. I’m certain I saw it recently, after we set up camp here, but after that, I’m not certain where they went.”

“How troubling. Did Severa just leave you to fend for yourself?”

“Ah, no! She’s a little unforgiving at times, yes, but being that I couldn’t see, she decided to take care of putting away the stock herself. She then told me she would be back so we could go to town and get a new pair of glasses.”

“How kind of her, but obviously you didn’t stay put.”

“Yes, she will probably give me an earful later, but I had to give something to Gerome. He’s been running low on his stash, and he’s too embarrassed to admit it.”

“…Stash?”

“Oh! I shouldn’t have said anything. Please forget what I said.”

“Are you talking about sweets?”

“How did you-?”

“When you were talking to your bucket friend.”

“Oh… Well… Yes. Please don’t say anything to anyone, I think the only people who know are myself, Inigo, Lucina, and Cynthia. Inigo, Cynthia, and myself try to help sustain his little addiction, since he’s in a worse mood otherwise, but he prefers to keep such knowledge, under wraps. I have a feeling Cherche, Robin, and Morgan have an inkling about it, but none of them have confronted Gerome about it.”

“Morgan? I can understand Cherche and Robin, but Morgan?”

“I believe so. Your son, like his mother, is very perceptive. I think a few weeks back, when we weren’t near a village, and both he and his father was running low on sugar, Morgan actually gave Gaius and Gerome pies, telling them he made it for his mother, but they didn’t turn out how he planned, so he was trying to get rid of them. Or something to that effect.”

“…He does take after Robin, doesn’t he?”

“He does in his own way, yes, but I think he’s a bit more like you, Frederick.”

“…What do you-?”

“Father! What are you doing here?” The knight turned, realizing they had meandered into the training area. Besides his son, there was Cynthia and Owain. Morgan and Cynthia seemed to be having a sparring match with practice swords, while Owain was carving a wooden blade.

“…Morgan?”

“Laurent! I didn’t recognize you without your glasses!” The Cavalier came over, as did the cobalt, although the white haired boy looked up briefly, only to return to his task.

“You’re looking very dashing without them!”

“Thank you, Cynthia. However, I’m looking for Gerome. Being I can see nary a thing, Frederick has been guiding me around camp.”

“Gerome, huh? I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“You should probably check his tent,” The Myrmidon blows on the blade, getting rid of the wood chips. Holding the wood up briefly to inspect it, he notices a few discrepancies, so he flips the blade to continue carving. “He’s usually there by now.”

“His tent? Hmmm…Yes, I’ll go there next. Thank you.” With that, the Mage turned, followed by the brunet, who stopped hearing his name, well…title, called.

“Father?”

“Yes, Morgan?”

“If you’re helping Laurent, will you still have time to help me with dinner?”

“I don’t think this search will continue too much longer. I’ll be there when we’re done.”

The boy hummed, looking a bit disheartened. “…Okay.”

“…What are you planning to make tonight, Morgan?”

“Most likely a soup or stew. If the hunting team caught some large game, maybe a roast, but most likely a stew.”

“Very well. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Father.” With that the knight turned, walking to the exit. He turned back briefly, catching Cynthia and Morgan preparing for another bout. As he walked away, seeing Laurent waiting blankly for him, he hears the swift hit of wood on body, and a whine.

“I keep telling you, Cynthia, stop trying to draw your sword from the ground! Even if you can plunge the wood into the earth without breaking the practice blade, you won’t be able to pull it out. As well, it delays your reaction time!” There was a strange sharpness to the boy’s tone, one that he never heard from his son before, yet something familiar.

“But, Morgan! Father does it, and he looks so heroic!”

“Well, you’re not your father, and he does it with steel. A steel blade won’t keep breaking every time you try to plunge it into the ground!”

“Then let’s use steel weapons!”

“And risk you destroying the training area again? What will Father say?”

“…We can just blame it on Lucy or Father…I’m sure Father would cover for me…”

“Just give it up, Morgan. Cyn’s stubborn.”

The noise his boy made was part hmph and part snort. “I’m pretty stubborn too, Owain. Now, Cynthia! Let’s try this again! I need to start prepping dinner soon! …Get into stance. Move your back leg a little back. Yes like that, goo-…”

By now Frederick and Laurent were too far to hear the rest of the conversation. “…What was that?”

“Hmm?” The Mage tried to push up his glasses, forgetting they were not there. “I think Morgan’s training Cynthia. I hear, following Dark Flyer, she’s planning to become a Paladin. You wouldn’t think it, but following the lance, her next fondest weapon is the sword.”

“Morgan’s…training…Cynthia?”

“…Didn’t you know? Most of the children, except maybe Kjelle and Gerome, go to your son for practice and training. In all honesty, from our generation, Gerome, Kjelle, and Lucina are best in axe, lance, and sword, respectively. However, Morgan is usually in the top three for most weapons beside bow and healing. Due to that, and the ease of his teaching style, quite a few people go to him for pointers.”

“…I, had no idea.”

“I am not surprised, Morgan’s quite humble. He doesn’t enjoy being in the limelight, even if he is one of the better fighters.”

“That does sound like him.”

The Mage nods. “On another matter entirely, are we there yet? I feel it’s around here somewhere. Or maybe we passed it?”

“A few more tents down. This one I believe.” The knight pulled the blond to the tent flap.

“Gerome?” A gruff noise responded. “I’ve got those things you asked for.”

“GIVE…me…” The Wyvern Rider yanked open the tent flap, stopping in mid-demand when he realized Frederick was there. Laurent pulled out the bag, filled to the brim with random sweets. “…I don’t want it.”

“Take it, Gerome. Frederick already knows about your sweet tooth, and I’m sure he won’t say anything to your father.”

The ginger stared warily at Frederick, finally taking the bag, putting a mint into his mouth. “…Laurent,” The man was “smoothly” changing the subject. “Where are you glasses?”

A sigh. “They broke this morning, and I can’t seem to remember where I put my spare.”

“…A moment.” Gerome disappeared into his tent, returning with a pair of glasses. “Would these happen to be them? They were left in the barracks a few nights ago. I assumed they were yours, being only you and your mother wear glasses in the army.”

“Hmm… Ah, yes! They are! Excelsior!”

“With that problem solved, I should probably get going. I have some plans to keep.”

“Ah, yes, thank you very much, Frederick.” The knight turned, starting to head to the mess tent. “Frederick,” The brunet turned back. “Morgan is more like you then you think. I have faith.” The man nodded, continuing ahead.

Once the Great Knight was gone, Gerome turned to the blond. “…What was that about?”

“Only a man worried that his son has no traits from him.” The ginger could only hum in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it was not obvious...I wonder if you caught all the given pairings...
> 
> Fred/FeMU  
> Chrom/Sumia  
> Gaius/Cherche  
> Vaike/Miriel  
> Lon'qu/Cordelia (implied)  
> Henry/Lissa (Looking back on this now...I have no idea how Owain was like Henry in this...maybe it was supposed to appear later in the story...)
> 
> ...man...I really liked bucket Gerome...


End file.
